Despite my impending flu, Monday's are the day reserved for cleaning the house during nap time. It sucks, but I suppose it is better than getting turned in to appear on Hoarders.
It occurred to me that what I promised Darling Husband would never happen has indeed happened: Baby Boy's stuff has taken over the house.
It was a slow process, like the Blob, inching its way across carpets, onto sofas, under chairs...
Granted we don't have a "play room" so the formal living area (where I imagined the Ladies that Lunch and I would sip tea from antique cups) is now akin to a Day Care Center including the Little Tykes Cozy Coupe and a "sensory table" filled with enough beans to feed a small village.
So, my Sexy Naptime Tip for today is to make sure you secure one sacred space just for you, free of things that rattle, squeak, hum, spin, tinkle or teach you Spanish. (Unless of course the something doing that is held by your lover.)